This is my reoccurring dream. I live in New York, but I’m moving somewhere far away. My truck is all packed up. There is a heavy burden in my heart. The pouring rain makes the day even more melancholy. I take one last look at my empty brownstone. So many memories have been packed away. It’s time for me to move on. I grab that last floor lamp, and make my way out to the U-haul.
I place the lamp in the back of the truck and slide the cargo door shut. I stop. I turn around. It’s you. Soaked from head to toe. You just stare at me. Then, slowly, the corners of your mouth bend upwards into a grin. You nod your head yes, laugh and run towards me. We embrace passionately, kissing between laughter and tears of relief. You’ve decided to come with me.
I’ve had that dream since I was 6 years old, and now, well now it can finally come true.
Of course I’m not one to break up a marriage, so I haven’t sent you my past letters, all confessing my love for you. You’ll get those now, Tipper, one letter every few days for the next 10 years. But first I thought I’d write a brand new letter introducing myself, especially now that you left that other man.
My name is Nathan Jordan, and all I’m asking is that you love me as much as I love you. I guess I should tell you a little bit about myself. I am currently a part-time manager at Wing Stop. I know, it’s only part-time, but I have a key, and as my mom pointed out, it takes a lot of responsibility to have a key to a Wing Stop. I believe that the key to your heart requires someone who can handle something like that. Basically, what I’m saying is that I have experience with keys.
Now that you’ve ditched the zero, you can get with the hero.
I’m sure with your background that you’re curious about my political affiliation. I actually have any. I once voted for the next M&M color and when purple lost I became disenfranchised with the whole political system.
As far as religion goes, I believe that god created the Earth in 1948, on the day you were born.
I really don’t want to give away too much more, because I want our first meeting to be all about exploring each other emotionally and physically. As we say at Wing Stop, “Don’t give away free Pepsi when you can sell it for a profit.” Plus, you’ll get written up.
I will, however, send you my best picture:
I don’t have much to offer except a discount at Wing Stop and my heart. Actually, the discount at Wing Stop is iffy. Technically, we’d have to be married for you to take advantage. I guess that will be an incentive we can discuss later!
If you want to accept my proposal, meet me in New York during the next rainfall. And don’t wear a raincoat.